


Home for Christmas

by ViolaMoon



Series: Viola's Dramione Fics [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Movies, Christmas challenges, F/M, Fanatical Fam's Holiday Fic Exchange 2020, Gift Fic, Only One Bed, Podcast: Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them, Romance, Room of Requirement, Room of Requirement Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolaMoon/pseuds/ViolaMoon
Summary: Hermione longs for home this Christmas and enters the Room of Requirement for a quiet night alone. Draco wishes the same.The Room of Requirement has other ideas.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Viola's Dramione Fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555372
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49
Collections: Fanatical Fam's: Holiday Fic Exchange





	Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purelygreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purelygreen/gifts).



> This story was written for Andrea of the Fanatical Fics Discord’s Holiday Fic exchange. Merry Christmas!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created. It’s all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there. 
> 
> Thanks to Megs (Drarry_Quite_Contrary) for her beta/editing skills!

Hermione longed for home, especially at Christmas time. Her return to Hogwarts had been to get her life back on track after the war. Her parents had decided to stay in Australia, so they had sold their home in England. Luckily at Hogwarts, there was a place she could go when she was feeling homesick. The Room of Requirement.

She stepped through the doors with her eyes closed. In her mind, she saw her parent’s house. Hermione pictured herself walking up the front steps and opening the door. She could practically feel the fire burning in the hearth, hear her dad singing in the living room, and her mum in the kitchen baking mince pies.

She took another step forward and took in a deep breath, steeling herself. Hermione opened her eyes, and she was there. She was home. Magic could still take her breath away as she looked around. The Room of Requirement had created her childhood home and even decorated it for Christmas. The fragrant aroma of mince pies filled the air, and Christmas music played throughout the room.

“I’m home…” she said, feeling a childlike excitement fill her body. Hermione knew that no one would answer, but it felt good to say it. She continued exploring. It was identical, it seemed. Hermione inspected the upstairs. her parent’s room, her own – still decorated like her childhood bedroom – and the upstairs bathroom.

As Hermione walked down the stairs, she saw an unfamiliar ornate door on the ground floor landing. It was strangely out of place; her parent’s Edwardian home was nicely furnished, but this door was something else entirely. The frame was lined with gold flowers, and the handle was solid brass.

She approached the door and placed her hand on the handle. It was warm. She could hear something on the other side, music it seemed, but not muggle music. Classical music, with a definite Christmas twist, yet like nothing she had heard before.

Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself opening the door and stepping through. Once she crossed the threshold, she knew where she was at once. It was at Malfoy Manor. Or at least, it looked like it.

_ It is a lot cheerier than the last time I ‘visited’, _ Hermione thought to herself, as she brushed the arm where a scar was carefully hidden beneath a cosy Weasley jumper.

The grand hall was decorated with pine garlands and silk tinsel. An enormous Christmas tree stood in the middle of the room, and in front of a roaring fire, two red armchairs stood. One of them  occupied—by her previous tormentor at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy.

She suddenly realised she wasn’t alone in the Room of Requirement. Hermione took a deep breath and debated; should she just leave or talk to him? She spun around, her Gryffindor bravery nowhere in sight, and she headed for the ornate door, which now resembled a door from  _ her _ house.

Her hand reached the handle and tried to turn it, only to find that it would not budge.

“Granger?” Draco called from the fireplace. “What are  _ you _ doing here?” He rose from the chair and moved over to her. His eyes shifted from her to the door.

“Well, that wasn’t there before…” he said, examining the door curiously.

“It showed up on my side… I asked the room to show me my parent’s house,” Hermione explained. “But there was this ornate door…” Hermione looked around. “Like those ones over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room, where there was an identical copy of the door she had used to enter. “Then I ended up here, but now I can’t get back.”

“Strange,” Draco said. He looked from the door to Hermione. His hand reached for the handle. It turned without issue, and he smirked. “See, you just needed a strong man to open for you.” He flashed her a smug grin.

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a strong man, thank you very much.”

“Oh yes, I know. The Golden Girl, Saviour of the Wizarding World, ‘needs no man’,” he said with a hint of a smile on his lips.

He was referring to the article in Witch Weekly, which had criticised her breakup with Ron and her choice to return to Hogwarts. They had painted her as a woman who was ungrateful for her relationship with her red-headed best friend. That she was making a grievous mistake and was snubbing Ron when in reality the feeling had been mutual. They were best friends, not lovers, and they were better that way.

“Fine.” Hermione moved out of the way. “Be my guest.” She gestured towards the door.

Draco turned the handle once more and waved his hand. “After you, my lady.”

Hermione chuckled and walked through, allowing Draco to follow her. “So… er… welcome to my home, Malfoy.”

“Please, we are beyond surnames now, Hermione. You’ve taken me to your family home,” he winked and moved past her into the living room.

This Draco still surprised her. Now that his father was out of his life, he had relaxed. Even sought her out to apologise and admit that he never really hated her. They had become somewhat friends.

Hermione quickly followed him and chuckled at his curious observation of a muggle home. “Is that a television? Does it work?” he asked, before moving on to the Christmas tree, all decorated with tinsel, ornaments Hermione’s parents had collected over the years, and electric lights, each a different colour. The only way Hermione could describe Draco was like a small child seeing the family Christmas tree for the first time. She couldn’t help but giggle. This was a different side of Draco Malfoy that few had seen.

“What do you think?” she said, approaching him and pulling an ornament off the tree. It was in the shape of a book and had the words ‘Hermione’s first Christmas’ on it with the date.

“This is quite different from the trees my mother decorated.” Draco looked around the room. “Quite different indeed,” he said. “She would ‘theme’ it every year; my favourite was ‘Winter in Russia’, it was beautiful, but very white. This is a lot more colourful,” he continued. “I like it. It’s more… personal.” He gazed over at an ornament with Hermione’s young face printed on the front.

Hermione nodded, “Yes, I like it. Though I know that your mother is a woman of taste so anything she decorates would be beautiful. What I saw in the other room was… incredibly beautiful.”

A question burned on the back of Hermione’s mind, and as if he could read it, Draco said, “I can’t go home this year… not until my mother is out of Azkaban, then I will return and fix the mess of the last year.”

Both his parents had been jailed following the war, his father getting a life sentence despite his attempts to prove he was under the Imperius curse. A shock had come when Narcissa had testified against her husband. Rumoured to be payback for dragging their only son into the war and Voldemort’s clutches. Narcissa had gotten off with a more lenient sentence of only five years, which could be shortened for good behaviour.

“I can’t go home either.” Hermione put the book ornament back on the tree. “During the war, I obliviated my parents and sent them to Australia.”

“What?” Draco exclaimed and turned to look at her. “Why…oh.” He stopped as the answer dawned on him. “It’s because of us, isn’t it… the Death Eaters.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, to protect them. I have restored their memories now, but they have decided to stay there, so they sold the house.” She walked over to the fireplace where the mantle still displayed her picture, unlike after her memory charm.

Draco stood looking at the Christmas tree for a moment longer, appearing lost in thought. Hermione could see him turn towards her as if to say something, but stopped. This happened a few times before he moved over to the mantle and saw the stocking hanging from it. “What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a stocking,” she explained. It was red and lined with a golden fur rim. Her name was stitched along the length of the stocking and glistened in the light of the Christmas tree. “Father Christmas puts presents in it on Christmas eve, ready for me to open them on Christmas Day… or at least, he used to.”

Draco looked at her with an expression that could only be described as disbelief, and that’s understandable. As far as she was aware, Father Christmas wasn’t a wizarding world thing. “I know what you are thinking,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “That some mysterious being gives children presents over Christmas. It’s not that mysterious. It was always my parents who put them in there.”

“Oh well, that makes much more sense,” Draco said. “Well, this has been… enlightening, but I will retreat to my side. Enjoy yourself in this strange, unnatural Christmas,” he sneered in a joking tone.

Hermione huffed as he walked out of the living room only to hear him swear. “Hermione? Can you come here?” she heard him call. She followed his voice to the ornate door and saw that no matter how hard he pulled, the door wouldn’t budge.

“Maybe I need to open it, much like you had to open it on the other side,” she suggested.

“Be my guest,” he said and moved out of the way.

Hermione placed her hand on the door and tried to open it. To her surprise, it wouldn’t open for her either. “ _ Alohomora _ ,” she said and pointed her wand at the door, but nothing happened. “Strange…” she murmured.

“Well, if I can’t get to my side of the room through this door, I will just leave the Room of Requirement and enter that way again,” he said with an elegant shrug.

Hermione showed him to the front door of her house where she had entered the room. Draco stepped up, and expecting the door to be heavy (as the Room of Requirement’s door often was), he gave it an almighty tug. Nothing happened. “Bloody door, open!” he swore. “No offense, Hermione, but I had hoped to be alone tonight.” He tugged at the door again, but it was as if he were tugging at a stone statue; it wouldn’t give.

Hermione gave it a try too. Maybe they could leave together. “This is very odd… it seems that the door won’t open for either of us!” She looked around, trying to see if anything was out of place. She pulled out her wand and cast a simple, revealing charm to see if someone was in there with them.

“If this is some sort of a prank, I will kill them,” Draco fumed. “What are we supposed to do? Stay here all night?”

“No one is here,” Hermione said as she examined the results of her charm. “I don’t understand why we are stuck here, but it’s not anyone’s doing. I will send a Patronus to someone. Maybe they can open it from the other side.”

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ ,” she said, and her otter raced off in the direction of the door, only for it to dissipate as it tried to run through.

“Whatever is holding us here doesn’t want us to get help,” Draco mused.

Just then, the letter flap on her parent’s door opened, and a red envelope was pushed through. Draco jumped back, expecting a howler, but Hermione picked it up right away. “It’s not a Howler,” she said as she opened it. “It’s… a Christmas Card!” She showed him the picture on the front. It was an ornately decorated fireplace with stockings on it. Draco took it from her and examined it before opening it. He started to read the contents out loud.

_ “Christmas is not a holiday to spend alone; in the kitchen you go for ‘tis the season to bake’.” _

He sneered and passed it to her, and as she read it, they were forcefully dragged into the kitchen by what seemed like invisible hands. “Well, I guess we are baking?” Hermione said in disbelief. This was very unusual, and her mind was whirling with ideas. Was it the castle’s innate magic? Or someone pulling the strings from far away?

“I am not a baker. That’s what the house elves are for,” Draco said with the slightest upturned nose, which would put his mother to shame.

“Well, it just so happens to be a favourite pastime of mine at Christmas,” Hermione said stiffly, pushing him over behind the island. “Here, put this on.” She handed him an apron which looked like the front of a snowman, and she put on an apron which looked like a present. “Yes, you do need to put it on. You wouldn’t want to mess up your nice clean robes, now, would you?” she said as he looked at her reluctantly.

Hermione started pulling flour, eggs, and sugar out of the cupboard and then looked around for the final ingredient. “Ah, there it is!” she said, reaching into the back and pulling out a jar that looked like her mother’s mincemeat, prepared the year before. “We make mince pies from scratch every year, or… well, we did.”

“Here,” she said, handing him a set of metal casings and some butter. “These need to be brushed with some butter so they don’t stick. And no magic!”

“I don’t understand why we can’t use our wands for this,” he said.

“My house, my rules,” she said with a grin, and he scoffed. Hermione couldn’t wait to see how he handled this.

“You just live to torment me.” Draco looked bewildered, the butter and casings in each hand. He tried to rub the block of butter into each casing before getting it all over his fingers, and it slipped out of his hand. She burst out laughing as the slightly warm butter slid away.

“It’s not that funny, Granger!” he said, offended. “Excuse me if I have never baked before.” Hermione chuckled and couldn’t help but think that he looked rather cute when he was so lost.

“I’m sorry, look.” She pulled out a special brush and replaced the butter. “You use this,” she said and demonstrated for him.

She began preparing the dough for the mince pie cases – mixing flour, sugar, and butter together before adding a single egg and mixing it together. However, it was still too sticky, and her hands were now covered in the sticky mixture.

“Draco? Can you pour a bit more flour into the bowl for me?” she asked.

Draco looked at her and her sticky hands and raised an eyebrow. “If we used magic, this wouldn’t have happened.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up and help me,” she laughed. “Sooner we get these done, the sooner we can hopefully get out of here.”

Draco poured more flour into the bowl, and soon, the dough was ready. Hermione chilled the dough, and then they rolled out the dough. Hermione couldn’t help but notice how well Draco’s elegant fingers worked the dough as if he was an expert.

“And you said you have never baked before,” she commented. “These are perfect.”

“Some of us are just naturally talented.” Draco gave her a smug grin.

Hermione spooned the mincemeat into the tins on top of the dough, and Draco placed a dough star on top of each. As the last was placed, Draco’s hand lingered just for a moment on Hermione’s, and she felt a tingle. She pulled it away and blushed. She moved away and put the mince pies in the oven.

“What now?” he asked. Just like as he finished speaking, a new Christmas card flew into the room and landed in front of him.

‘ _ With the pies in the oven, your next task awaits. Through the door, you must tread, but it will only open with a kiss.’ _

Draco looked from the card to the door, where he spotted mistletoe above it. “Seriously?” he asked and tossed the card over to Hermione.

“It seems so,” she confirmed. Hermione stepped over to him and looked into his steely grey eyes. “Well, we do want to get out of here, don’t we?”

A moment of awkward silence fell upon them. Hermione bit her lip and looked at him, sure he was handsome, but she had never considered kissing him before. Not with the whole Death Eater, pureblood supremacy thing. But now, he had explained his position, that his father had basically indoctrinated him, and now, he knew better.

Hermione stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. Draco looked her in the eyes, and they seemed drawn in towards each other by some magical bond, much like the force that had pulled them into the kitchen. The door didn’t budge, and now it seemed, neither could they.

“I think the room has decided that a peck on the cheek wasn’t good enough,” he guessed. Their eyes remained locked into each other’s, and Hermione could swear she could hear his heart beating a thousand times a minute, or was it hers? “We can do better than that, can’t we, Granger?” he said with a confident smirk. His head dipped, and their lips met.

Hermione felt him draw her in, and she wondered why she hadn’t kissed him sooner. His lips were soft, warm, and he used just the right amount of pressure. One of his hands grazed her hip while the other ran through her curls. Kisses with Ron had never been like this. She felt herself falling, entranced as she moved along with him. She felt the magic slip from around them, yet the magic of their kiss kept them going. She never wanted him to stop. But eventually, they had to break away, their lips separated, yet the gaze remained. “Wow,” she whispered.

“I have wanted to do that for years,” Draco whispered back. “It was worth the wait.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “What?” and before she could ask a follow-up question. Draco’s lips were on hers again. This time, the kiss was shorter but just as magical, and she found herself embracing him and her hand finding his.

“I have had a crush on you for years, but you know… I couldn’t. Not with my father, and honestly, I didn’t think you felt the same way,” he admitted. Their hands remained linked, and Hermione couldn’t bring herself to leave his embrace.

She was shocked, but not in a negative way. She did like him. He was funny and intelligent, and she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him, especially after kissing him. They had chemistry; it couldn’t be denied. “This is very new, but yes… that was some kiss.”

The door opened, and on the side table, another card was gleaming in the light.

Hermione opened it and read out loud to Draco.

_ “Christmas wouldn’t be complete without a Christmas movie in front of a fire.” _

Hermione led Draco into the living room where the television was already on. In front of the fire were pillows and blankets and a pile of snacks. They arranged themselves in front of the fire, and Hermione couldn’t help but speculate about the Room’s motive. Did it want them to get together? But the warmth of Draco’s arm around her shoulders distracted her from her thoughts. Did  _ she _ want to get together with Draco?

The opening scene started; it was a typical cheesy Christmas movie. The main character was an overworked woman, sent to a small town at Christmas. She meets a man and doesn’t like him. “Is this a common thing?” Draco asked. “Like, do muggles really watch these things?”

“Some do yes,” Hermione said, helping herself to some popcorn. “They are rather predictable, but it always gets me in the Christmas spirit.”

The movie continued, and the pair grew closer and closer. The mince pies they had baked had flown into the room over the course of the film, fresh from the oven. Hermione rested her head on Draco’s chest as she watched the movie. She could get used to this. But was it the Christmassy atmosphere, the challenges the room was putting them through or was there something really here?

“Hermione,” Draco said, turning his head to look her in the eyes. “I want… never mind.” He looked away, and Hermione could swear that she could see the slightest hint of a blush on his pale cheeks.

“What?” she said, pulling away so she could see him clearly.

“I want this to be more than Christmas.” His eyes looked wistful and hopeful. His hand gripped hers, and his thumb traced her knuckles.

He reached forward, and they kissed once again, and Hermione knew then and there that she didn’t want it to end. She wanted him.

“I have wanted to kiss you since we were kids, but things got in the way, and I honestly didn’t think that this would at all be possible.”

Hermione moved closer, and she could feel his heart as if a magical string connected them. This time she kissed him, and she felt her breath being taken away.

“This night has been the best night of my life, and I don’t want it to end,” Hermione said as if she could read his mind. Draco nodded.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Just then, another card flew into the room and landed in Draco’s lap.

_ ‘With the night fast encroaching, it is time to go to bed. For without sleep, Christmas cannot come. Put on your festive nightclothes and cosy up for the night. When you wake, the joy of giving will be realized.” _

Hermione led Draco upstairs. Draco could sleep in the guest room while she slept in her own. However, neither door would budge. Upon trial and error, they found that the only bedroom they could enter was her parents’ old room with their large bed.

Draco shrugged and entered the room as if it were nothing. Hermione hesitated. Maybe she could sleep downstairs on the sofa or something? She may have agreed to date Draco, but she wasn’t ready to sleep with him.

“Are you coming?” Draco called into the hall. It pulled Hermione from her thoughts, and she took a deep breath. As she entered the room, she gasped. It may have been the door to her parents’ room, but it wasn’t their room at all. A spacious double bed with a warm, red quilt stood in the centre of the room. A small tree stood in the corner next to a dresser.

“This is different,” she said. Her hand skirted along the duvet and marveled at how soft it was. “This is not how my parent’s room looks.”

“I think the Room wanted us to sleep here. Though it has ulterior motives, I think,” Draco chuckled as he moved over to the dresser. On top of the dresser lay two sets of pyjamas, again in a festive style. However, upon closer inspection, the pair discovered that Draco’s was a pair of pyjama bottoms and Hermione’s was a skimpy nightdress. Both were green and silver with small presents dotted all over.

Hermione sighed and picked up the nightdress. It definitely wasn’t something she would usually wear.

“Here, take the bottoms too. I will sleep in my boxers.” Draco handed her the pair and then turned around to give her room to change. She couldn’t help but think that it was very gentlemanly of him, but it did mean he would sleep in less clothes than before. This caused her to blush considerably. She was no virgin. Inexperienced was the term she liked to use.

She quickly changed. The pyjama bottoms were rather long on her but warm. She looked around, and then it dawned on her. There was only one bed.

“I can sleep on the sofa downstairs,” Hermione said as she turned around and saw that Draco was already in the bed in his boxers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Granger,” he said. “I will be a perfect gentleman. Get in.”

She hesitated. Her eyes were drawn to his pale, muscular chest, and couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like. But that was too soon and too fast. But part of her just wanted to jump in.

She took a deep breath and moved over to the other side of the bed. Climbing under the duvet, she moaned at the softness of the mattress. “This is heaven.”

“That’s not how I want you to moan in bed, Hermione.” He winked at her and turned on his side to look at her. She gazed into his and saw fire behind his grey eyes. His hand reached over and glided down her side.

She moved closer, and their lips were drawn to each other. Time slowed as they kissed and touched. His fingers danced across her skin, and she felt things she had never felt before. Her own hand explored his body and discovered his hardness, the evidence of his attraction to her.

They broke away, and Draco rested his forehead on hers. “As much as I really want to continue, it’s too soon. We should sleep, and hopefully, we can get out of here in the morning.”

Hermione nodded and fanned herself. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing short. She had almost given in to him there, but he was right. She wasn’t the type of girl to get so intimate with a guy on the first ‘date’. “You’re right, but what we did was wonderful.”

They shuffled down under the covers, and Hermione kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for such a lovely Christmas eve.”

“No. Thank  _ you _ , Hermione, it has been the best Christmas I have had.” His hand moved under the covers and found hers, their fingers entwining.

The last thing Hermione remembered before she fell asleep was Draco’s voice, wishing her a Merry Christmas.

xxx

Hermione woke up, feeling incredibly refreshed. The mattress seemed to envelop her, and Draco’s warm body next to her gave a sense of contentment. She closed her eyes again and wanted to sleep some more, far too comfortable to move.

“Good morning,” Draco said beside her. He rolled onto his side and let his hand drift over her body. “I don’t know about you, but that was the best sleep of my life.”

“Mmm,” she murmured and shuffled closer to him, her eyes still closed.

“Come on, sleepyhead; it’s Christmas day.” Hermione felt his hand envelop her breast and massage it gently, and she gave off a slight moan.

His hand continued as Draco’s lips found hers, and he pulled her even closer.

“I know you are awake,” he murmured against her lips.

“Okay, okay…” she said as she kissed him back. Part of her didn’t want to leave this little bubble, back to their lives, back to school. But first, they had Christmas to look forward to, and hopefully, the Room would let them out now.

Hermione reluctantly pulled away and stepped out of bed. She showered, and while she dressed, Draco did so too.

They walked downstairs together and found another card at the bottom of the stairs.

_ “One last task awaits you. For Christmas would not be Christmas without the joy of giving.” _

Curious, the pair stepped into the living room where two presents stood under the tree. Hermione gasped as she recognised one of the presents. She had bought Draco a small gift, she had spotted it and thought of him. But she hadn’t thought of giving it to him. Apparently, the Room had other ideas.

She sat down in front of the tree, and Draco followed. Picking up the small, green, and silver package, she handed it to him. “Merry Christmas,” she said with a bashful smile.

Looking across at Draco, she could see a similarly bashful expression. “I got this for you, but I didn’t think I could give it to you,” he said, handing her a heavy, red present.

She ripped open the package and found an old book. “This… this is a first edition copy of Hogwarts: A History!” She examined the book in wonder. “How did you get this? This is too much!”

“No, it’s just enough,” Draco said. “After everything and now… with us, this feels right. I know a good book collector.” He moved to his own gift and opened it to find an ornate leather case for his potions tools. “Thank you, this is excellent, just what I needed actually.”

“I saw that your old one was very worn. I know you could easily afford a new one but, I saw this and thought of you,” Hermione said.

Draco closed the distance and kissed her firmly. “This was, without a doubt, the best Christmas ever. Now let’s see if we can get out of here; I am starving.”

The pair gathered up their belongings and found that they could indeed leave the room. They paused at the door and looked back; this had been an eventful night.

“Hermione, I know that people are going to talk, and I know this happened so fast, but I want you to know that, if it pleases you, I will go out there now and proudly say that you are my girlfriend. People will probably disapprove, but we can deal with this together.”

They stepped out into the world, ready to celebrate Christmas with the outside world. The homes they missed this Christmas were replaced by a new sense of belonging. To each other.

**Author's Note:**

> 🎁 Merry Christmas 🎄


End file.
